The Dark Takeover: Revised
by Diagon the Uber Lord of Lawlz
Summary: The fate of the Smash world has always been in the hands of many- but now, with a new scourge threatening the world, it lies in the hands of three. The prospect is dim, as the enemy is both unknown and more vicious than foes past, and one member doesn't seem to understand the idea of camaraderie and insists on being difficult. Note: no yaoi. Felt like clarifying.


Author's Notes: I'm too conceited to refrain from putting these in. So there.

I just find it amusing that an old idea that began four years ago can still hold such a place in my heart as to warrant this re-write. In fact, though I wrote absolutely nothing for the past 2 years, the idea just wouldn't leave me alone. My problem was motivation to just sit and write. So, here I am, sittin' and writin', ready to bring sexy back… except not really… I think there was something else I wanted to say here, but it'll have to wait for the end. Or never.

And so it begins. Again.

* * *

Awakening to bright morning rays gleaming through one's window like so much liquid gold oft seemed like a sign from the gods, a sign decrying the beauty of the day ahead and the fortune of those who could live it to its fullest. All the hard-won battles and lengthy struggles all culminated to create the moment, and the sheer magnitude of the good-feeling-ness in the air could cause earthquakes whose power would destroy all life as was known.

Ike didn't quite get that feeling.

For him, the glorious sun was a sign that his inevitable attendance of the triumphant celebration would be under a broiling sun. For him, the euphoria the gorgeous weather would arouse would mean incessant and unnecessary chatter from the partygoers, and that even those smashers that he didn't particularly know well or even like would follow him with their inane small talk. For him, those earthquakes sounded mighty nice.

It wasn't that he thought the party was an inherently bad idea- he just wanted some peace and relaxation for once. The smashers had only just defeated Tabuu and his Subspace army; surely Master Hand understood that everyone was exhausted and needed some down time, some solitary solace- just time to recuperate.

There was another reason- namely a person- that gave him cause to dread the departure, but he could be disgruntled about that later. For now, he had to get his ass out of bed.

Ike swung his legs out of bed, groaning as they creaked on rusty hinges. Stretching, he ran his fingers through his spiky blue hair and allowed himself a single yawn. With a surge of energy, he sprung to his feet and stepped over to his simple wooden dresser. He pulled the drawers open, selecting his standard get-up- a deep blue tunic edged with yellow accompanied by white pants and brown boots.

_I don't understand how women do it,_ Ike thought to himself as he pulled his tunic over his head. _Why can't they just find one outfit that looks good and stick with it? Maybe I'm just stupid and I don't realize it yet. _A chuckle at that particular thought escaped him as he slid into his boots and reached for a strap-on leather pauldron. He knew the female smashers berated his choice of attire every chance they could find an ear, ragging fairly hard on his favorite tattered red cape. The only problem was he didn't care. Blame it on nostalgia, blame it on an illusion of badassery- though he definitely thought it was badass- hell, blame it on stubbornness, he loved his cape. So it was with great affection that Ike tied the ragged piece of fabric around his neck, completing his ensemble.

A whoosh of wind just outside his door elicited a smile from the warrior; Meta Knight was up. The masked Kirby was an astounding swordsman, an intelligent being, and, first and foremost, one of Ike's closer friends. They had grown quite close over the course of the war against Subspace, and Ike regarded Meta Knight with deep respect. The feeling was mutual, he knew. His smile widening, Ike grabbed his golden claymore Ragnell from his bedside and sauntered out the door, the large blade braced against his shoulder.

The warrior traipsed through the stone halls of the Battlefield Fortress, as their residence was called, and eventually reached the main hall. Old crimson tapestries lined the walls, and a mahogany table ran the length of the room. Meta Knight was already seated there, placing his silver mask upon his blue face with an empty plate before him. Ike sighed with some regret; perhaps if he had been a bit faster, he could have caught the masked Kirby eating.

"D'you inhale it all like Kirby?" Ike asked, grinning. Meta Knight turned to face the warrior with a sigh, his purple cape draped about his spherical body. The masked Kirby's golden, jagged blade was embedded in the same chair upon which he sat, and the light reflecting off of it gave a golden gleam to his black pauldrons.

"Ike, you know I'll never tell you the answer to that question."

"You will someday," Ike replied with confidence. "Or I'll catch you."

"C'mon, Ike. We both know you're too slow for that," Meta Knight teased, his yellow eyes gleaming with humor.

"Well, that's not entirely MY fault-"

"But it is in fact mostly your fault, isn't it?" Ike gritted his teeth at the mocking voice behind him, the dread from his waking moments returning. Time to be disgruntled- especially since the fortress's third resident, Prince Marth, didn't allow for any other emotion.

The prince was a jerk, putting it nicely. Practically every comment that left his lips was vitriolic, and he held everyone beside himself in utter contempt. His dislike and disregard of others shone clear through his constant haughty demeanor, and he was quick to lash out in anger towards those around him. If the prince felt slighted in anyway, he would make sure to inform the perpetrator- persistently, perpetually, and painfully. Marth had never been a kindly man as far as Ike remembered; he had apparently been better during the Melee era, being at least complacent and neutral in his dealings with others as opposed to openly hostile and hateful. Everything had changed for the worse after Giga Bowser and the introduction of the new and improved era, and everyone resented the prince for it.

Ike turned slowly to face Marth, and found intense blue eyes glaring directly at him. Naturally. The prince was clad in his standard outfit- a light blue tunic cinched at the waist by a black belt, from which hung a sheath adorned with intricate designs. A golden hilt protruded from the sheath, and Ike remembered the bite of the longsword within- Falchion- all too well. Black pants and boots accompanied his tunic. He wore a short azure breastplate trimmed in gold, and atop it rested a deep navy cape that fell about his shoulders. His sneering expression was framed by neat blue hair, and a golden tiara sat just behind his ears. Why the prince wore a princess's crown he knew not, but as everyone else who commented on it knew, that was one thing you did not use to mock Marth. Of course, it was intelligent to avoid mocking him in general, but he was especially touchy about the tiara.

"Did you ever consider that this argument isn't yours to join?" Ike asked harshly, returning the prince's glare. Marth shrugged, his sneer shifting to an unpleasant grin.

"It needs a dash of intellect to qualify as an argument," he responded, walking past Ike. The warrior almost socked him right in his smug face, and intensely regretted choosing not to when the prince muttered to Meta Knight, "I think it would be best for you to begin ignoring Ike; his lack of intelligence seems to be rubbing off on you." The masked Kirby's eyes darkened, but he retained his cool- another reason Ike respected him so much. He needed Meta Knight's level head to deal with Marth.

"Was that really necessary, Marth?" Meta Knight's query was a futile one; the prince never had a good reason for his virulence. It was one of the most frustrating aspects of his behavior. He would often hand-wave the issue as the fault of others for failing to give him his due respect or for constant insults, but he always seemed to forget his own part in instigating these verbal attacks. Perhaps it was due to some chemical imbalance, which would almost make sense due to the varying levels of antagonism that came from Marth. Some days he was as caustic and bitter as stomach acid, and other days he was relatively reasonable in the sense that he behaved more like his Melee days- antisocial but quiet. In fact, he had consistently behaved this way during the Subspace war, and at times had almost been pleasant. There had been an air of finality and apprehension about him that seemed to distract the prince from his usual practice of mastering ways to piss people off. The stress of the catastrophe had definitely changed several of the smashers' outlooks… at least until they returned home.

As soon as Ike, Meta Knight, and Marth had settled back in at the fortress, the prince had snapped back to snapping so fast it gave the other two whiplash. Though, that might have been from the prince's hand connecting with Ike's face- and often. It was almost worse than normal, as if Marth was upset for whatever inconceivable reason that the war was over. All things considered, he might be upset that no one had died.

"Why ask, Meta Knight?" Ike interjected before Marth could reply. "We all know the answer to that question."

"I highly doubt that," Marth muttered, taking his seat a distance from the others. Ike watched him go, resisting the urge to growl at him, and plopped down next to Meta Knight. The masked Kirby simply shrugged, but his gaze was apprehensive. They still had to somehow get the prince to the party as well, an endeavor that would be all the more difficult due to their own hesitance. It might even have to end with chloroform. With that thought in mind, Ike leaned closer to Meta Knight and spoke, his voice a whisper.

"Hey, do you have anything we can use to inca-"

"We are not knocking him out," Meta Knight interrupted, his tone exasperated. Ike pouted. Upon noticing his friend's expression, Meta Knight snorted softly. "The cons outweigh the pros- heavily. Just think about when he wakes up, especially if it comes with a headache."

"Yeah, so? I'm still stronger than he is," Ike retorted, crossing his arms and jutting his chin.

"Right, as if that'll save you. Did you hear him come into the hall- which echoes, mind you- before he spoke?" That shut Ike up, and he cast a nervous glance at the prince. Marth was slumped forward, his head bowed and eyes narrowed at the marked wood before him. It definitely looked like he was plotting murder.

"Okay, point made," Ike muttered. "But do you have any better ideas?"

"Frankly, there are no better ideas, mostly because there are no good ideas in the first place," Meta Knight pointed out, to which Ike shrugged noncommittally.

"Except for knocking him out." Meta Knight just ignored the warrior and continued talking.

"We'll just have to talk it over; besides, maybe if he hears our own reluctance, he'll think he has a group to gripe with." Ike rolled his eyes at the masked Kirby's disillusioned optimism.

"Yeah, sure, he'll join up as quick as a forced draft. Really, though, we ought to knock him out." Meta Knight gave the warrior the benign present of a withering glower.

"Ike- for the last time- we are not knocking Marth out!" Meta Knight growled, quite loudly. In fact, it was loud enough to draw the attention of the topic of discussion.

"Excuse me?" Marth said indignantly. "What's this talk of knocking me out?" The masked Kirby turned to face the prince, his hands spread in a placating gesture.

"Look, Marth-"

"This is about the party, isn't it?" Marth accused, narrowing his eyes at the two.

"Yes, it is," Meta Knight admitted.

"I'm not going." Meta Knight sighed in frustration, retorting, "Perhaps that's the reason why we considered knocking you unconscious."

"The only problem with your reason is the lack of a reason to attend this moronic party in the first place," Marth shot back, swiveling in his seat to face them fully. Before Meta Knight or Ike could respond, the prince launched into an enraged tirade. "In fact, as reason would have it, all reasons point against this useless 'triumphant celebration' of Master Hand's. To have such a triumphant celebration, one must first have a triumph to celebrate. The Subspace war, a triumph? Not in the slightest. It barely escaped from utter failure, much less ascended to success- so how can we expect to ever rise to later threats? Even this so-called victory against Tabuu is a hollow shell, for its only accomplishment was to reveal our ineptitude!"

Ike stared, his mouth agape in utter shock, as Marth finished his sudden outburst. He didn't understand how the prince could think that way; the victory against Tabuu had been a tremendous one that had taken all the strength of all the smashers to achieve, and it had most likely saved their lives. Yet Marth thought it nothing and dared to accuse the others of weakness. Ike felt anger once more rising inside him, and this time, he rose with it.

"Maybe you're only so upset because you were the weak one!" Ike snapped, clenching his fists. Rage flared in Marth's eyes, and he practically leapt out of his seat and stormed out of the hall. As the prince passed him, Ike could almost swear he caught a glimpse of strain and some other unidentifiable emotion in those blazing blue eyes, but he couldn't be sure. Regardless, he felt a slight tug of guilt in his gut; Marth had surely endured just as much stress and fear as the rest of them, and perhaps the strain was proving harsher than expected. Even though the prince practically begged for punishment with his words, Ike didn't enjoy reacting so violently and so angrily. He just knew no other way to deal with Marth, as fighting fire with fire seemed reasonable when the fire just wouldn't stop.

Ike slumped forward onto the table, his chin resting in his hands. Meta Knight watched him silently, his eyes revealing nothing.

"Dammit," Ike sighed. The masked Kirby shrugged in response.

"There wasn't much else to say to something like that. We knew Marth was going to be this difficult," Meta Knight consoled, but Ike only shook his head, still upset.

"Still, I shouldn't have said that," Ike replied, his eyes downcast.

"Marth essentially called us- all of us- weak," Meta Knight pointed out, though his voice did not lack sympathy and understanding.

"That doesn't give me the right to call him the same-"

"That may be so, but maybe he needed to hear that," Meta Knight interrupted, "to be reminded of his own failures." The masked Kirby shook his head before continuing. "I don't think Marth understands that our banding together showed strength, not frailty, and thus he believes that because each individual failed, we collectively failed. He thinks that if we cannot stand on our own, we are worthless. However, he doesn't understand the courage required to go into battle knowing you can't win alone, that you are completely reliant on your comrades- you know, the courage that let us win." Ike nodded as if in understanding, though in truth the whole thing still puzzled him. Meta Knight's explanation of Marth's rationale was logical, but it didn't quite fit. Ike didn't know much of the prince's history, but he did know that Marth was a military commander, same as himself. As such, it didn't make sense that Marth could not understand the necessity of allies- how it was impossible to accomplish everything on one's own. The warrior shrugged, in part to himself, and replied, "All the worse for him, then."

"Indeed. A man alone can't defend this world, not even multiple men alone. We are supposed to join forces. The fate of this world has never been- and never will be- in the hands of one man." With that, Meta Knight drew his sword forth from the chair, splinter free, and hopped to the floor. "The sooner Marth understands that, the better- for him." Ike stood as well, turning his gaze to the corridor into which Marth had disappeared.

"We can convince him of that later. Right now, he needs convincing to come to the damn party," Ike grumbled. The masked Kirby glanced up at the warrior, his eyes gleaming like those of a smug tiger who knows it will hunger no longer.

"All we have to do is get him outside."

* * *

"Damn it all to hell, Marth!" Ike swore violently, rubbing his throbbing jaw.

"Same to you!" retorted the prince as he scampered off into the castle, holding his fist high in the air. Ike wanted to break those fingers so very much.

"So much for only having to get him outside," Ike muttered resentfully, tossing an accusatory glare Meta Knight's way. The masked Kirby grunted, choosing to vent his frustration through a stomp. This backfired in his face in the form of a cloud of dust; the Battlefield Fortress was located in a sprawling wasteland of sand and wind, a combination that often left the grumpy swordsmen itchy swordsmen. The masked Kirby spluttered as he scrabbled to brush the dirt off of his pristine mask, grumbling curses as he did so.

In fact, it was the third string of obscenities Meta Knight had uttered in the past thirty minutes, as their efforts to subdue Marth long enough for him to either calm down or for their transportation to arrive had proven futile. Tying the prince down with rope only gave them enough pieces to make a braid not long enough to make a headband, and wrestling him to the ground had broken the record for the amount of bruises Ike had accumulated within a minute. For his scrawny size, Marth had surprising strength and stamina; Ike had given in to the fear of internal bleeding before Marth had even come close to exhausting himself.

Their most recent attempt had involved Meta Knight flying into Marth's face with a kick while Ike came from behind and grabbed him both in a headlock and around his waist, pinning at least his sword arm. All had gone according to plan, with the prince's free arm flailing in an amusing manner at his side, until they had gotten outside. A sudden gust of wind had blown a veritable cannon ball of sand into Ike's face, and in reflex, the warrior let go of Marth's free arm to brush the sand out of his eyes. Next thing he knew, four hard knuckles were digging deep for bone in his jaw, and the prince was free.

"- stupid bastard- why can't you just be reasonable for once?" Meta Knight raged at the castle, shaking his fist at a window. Out popped Marth's head, glaring at them. He stuck his hand out, and counted off each furious word.

"I- don't- want- to- GO!" he screamed at them, to which the other two responded with a resounding, "You have to!" At this, the prince stuck out his tongue. The rivets that welded the boiler of Meta Knight's rage together could contain such tremendous force no longer, and exploded outward in a flurry of fists and livid roars.

"What are you, a two-year-old?" the masked Kirby screeched, which only prompted Marth to waggle his fingers at Meta Knight and make immature noises regularly heard from the demographic mentioned. As the two devolved into frustrated school children, Ike desperately tried to think of some method to draw Marth out. Forcing him outside had only ended in failure, so he would have to convince the prince to come out on his own. What could he say that would inspire enough of a reason for Marth to confront him face to face?

Then it clicked. It was the one thing Marth loathed being mocked for, even more so than his tiara.

Weakness.

"Marth of Altea, I challenge you to a duel!" Ike roared, brandishing Ragnell high over his head. Both Marth and Meta Knight froze, the former stuck in a most embarrassing and undignified pose involving a waggling tongue and a thumb to his nose. He remained as such for a brief, stunned moment before immediately straightening, closing his mouth and thrusting his hand behind his back.

"Could you perchance repeat that?" Marth inquired, eliciting a snort of derision from Ike.

"Don't play an idiot with me; I know you heard me," Ike sneered. His eyes widened mockingly, and a vicious grin split his face. "Or, maybe, you're pretending not to hear my challenge because you know you can't win." Marth's eyes narrowed, and his lips curled in a faint snarl.

"Excuse me?"

"I figured as much, since you're never out training at the same time as us- you know we'd laugh at your skills," Ike taunted. "I bet you can barely swing that sword for five minutes straight without having to wipe your face with a prissy little handkerchief!" The snarl twisting Marth's features grew more pronounced, but his gaze remained cold. _Not quite there yet? _"You're probably not even strong enough to measure up to your own soldiers, so you abandoned them to come here! That way, they wouldn't ever realize their so-called leader was a weakling!" _Bingo,_ Ike thought, as the prince's eyes turned into an azure inferno of hatred.

"I will make you regret those words!" Marth snarled, and with a billow of his cape, he was out of sight. The pang of guilt in Ike's gut went ignored as he strode forward, Meta Knight staring at him.

"What are you doing?" the masked Kirby demanded, and the warrior beckoned him forward. Meta Knight complied, and Ike whispered, "I'm not fighting him. This was just the only way I could think of getting him out here."

"Well, what do you intend to do when he gets out here?" Meta Knight queried skeptically. "'Sorry, but I'm not actually fighting you, even though I insulted you fairly viciously?' I think it's within his rights as royalty to kill you for that."

"Not if he's unconscious." Meta Knight gave the warrior a deadpan look.

"So. You want me to distract him?"

"Yeah."

"While you attack him during what is presumed to be an honorable duel?"

"Yeah."

"You are so dead. We are so dead," Meta Knight sighed, shaking his head. "I'll do it." Ike flashed him a quick grin and settled into a ready stance, holding his sword with both hands. He held that position for what seemed like an eternity, waiting on bated breath for Marth to appear- when finally, he did. The prince had already drawn his sword, and the sunlight gleamed along its length, giving the blade a sheen of silver. His countenance was composed, betraying no signs of his earlier rage, and his eyes seemed pained.

Marth advanced in silence, not raising his blade, not narrowing his eyes- in fact, nothing of his person changed but the position of his feet. He was as an impassive stone wall, and Ike couldn't help but feel slightly intimidated. The prince halted within striking distance of the warrior, and their twin blue gazes locked for a moment. Then Meta Knight struck, flying right in front of Marth and skidding to a halt. A wave of sand shot up from the masked Kirby's trail, splattering all over Marth. As the prince staggered back from shock and the force of the sand wave, Ike lunged forward, snapping his arms out. Ragnell swung towards Marth's head, and just before it flayed his scalp, Ike flipped the blade.

The flat of the sword smacked into Marth's head with a dull thwack, and the prince reacted quite reasonably. He keeled over, groaning, and hit the ground with a soft thud. Meta Knight exhaled slowly, shakily, with his yellow eyes locked firmly upon Marth.

"I can't believe it. We actually knocked him out," he breathed. A flood of relief at their success washed away any guilt and tension within Ike, and the warrior grunted his satisfaction.

"Told ya it was the only way to go," Ike crowed smugly, bending down to heave the prince onto his shoulder. He stumbled slightly under the sudden weight, but straightened almost immediately; Marth proved to be a light load. "Could you grab his sword?" Ike asked, setting off. Meta Knight complied, snatching Falchion up in both hands and waddling after the warrior, still muttering predictions of their collective demise at the hands of a particularly pissed prince.

They hadn't gone very far when a steady thrum filled the air, and the two swordsmen glanced towards the sky. A cerulean helicopter descended from the pale blue heavens, its rotor blades chopping the air with increasingly loud strokes. The wind strengthened considerably as it inched ever closer to landing, and the revolutions of the blades throbbed inside Ike's head. A muffled sound of pain came from the limp object on his shoulder, and Marth stirred. Ike cursed mentally; there went his hopes of a quiet ride. He'd hit harder next time.

"Oh," groaned the prince. "Oh, what in all of hell's infernos is this insufferable pain?"

"That would be your skull," Ike offered helpfully, receiving a resentful grumble for all his troubles. "The helicopter probably isn't helping you any, either."

"Helicopter?"

"Oh, right, you can't see it." With that, Ike lifted the prince off of his shoulder and flung him to the ground. Marth landed headfirst and immediately moaned his agony to the world, weakly throwing his arms over his face.

"Drums," he groaned, "incessant drums, pounding my head into submission. I never want to hear another timpani in my life, and damn bass to the deepest abysses of hell."

"Oh, stop your bitching," Ike snapped. "It's all your fault, you know." He spied a single blue slit burning through the gap in Marth's futile guard against the world, but the prince said nothing. He was probably plotting his vengeance or, considering the helicopter's position just above them, desperately trying to ignore the _whum-whum-whum_ that caused even the impervious Meta Knight to flinch. The pilot was going to die.

After an agonizingly drawn out descent that brought with it images of gruesome torture chambers, the helicopter finally touched ground. The rotors decelerated to a halt, giving the swordsmen's heads a necessary reprieve. The pilot was still going to die.

Now that the length of the vehicle was level with his sight, Ike could read the disgustingly bright, rainbow letters haphazardly plastered to the side; indeed, some had been torn off by the wind, and others scattered far outside their original alignment, but the intended message was still clear.

"The Party 'Portation…" As Ike continued reading the letters, he couldn't quite bring himself to finish. He was too shocked at the idiocy before him to even compute it.

"What?" Marth inquired irritably, slowly sitting up. Neither Meta Knight nor Ike responded, and the masked Kirby simply shook his head and pointed. Marth peered at it, his eyes narrowing in ire with each passing second that they remained on the words. "Plane. Party. 'Portation. Plane." The prince inhaled deeply, and Ike clapped his hands over his ears. Surprisingly enough, Marth didn't scream his frustration; rather, he let it out through a slow, agonized exhalation.

"I just don't… I don't even… it's a helicopter," Marth managed to choke out, his faith in humanity clearly sinking into negative levels. "It's not a plane. It's- it's not a plane." At that moment, the doors of the helicopter that clearly was not a plane slid open, and Link stepped out.

The Hylian normally wore a tunic of forest green and a cap to match, as well as white leggings and plain brown leather gauntlets. It wasn't extravagant, but it didn't look like he had been submerged in a vat of gaudy sky blue paint. His current outfit, however, matched that description quite nicely. The paint was even peeling off of his gauntlets, and the result conversely made his outfit more bearable- but only slightly.

"Uh," was all Ike could manage, and Meta Knight made up for his lack of words by asking, "What in the world is this, Link?" Link sighed, his eyes turned skyward in resignation.

"Blue crew co-pilot, reporting for duty," Link forced out through gritted teeth. "Blue crew, what is your status?"

"Are you- are you talking to us?" Marth asked, incredulous. The Hylian didn't acknowledge his question, simply stating, with the finality of a man who must tell the world of its coming demise, "Captain Falcon." The collective groan that followed kept nicely with the theme of impending worldwide doom, and Marth simply flopped back down, staring at the sky as one would a prospective savior who was just one moment too far away.

The pilot was as dead as a hedgehog thrown into a room full of explosives, a circumstance that the smashers knew all too well as spelling doom for the hedgehog.

At that moment, the current scourge of the three swordsmen's existence answered his summons. Captain Falcon burst from the helicopter like an unwanted pimple, with every hue of blue imaginable plastered somewhere on his being. It seemed as if the god of color had inhaled the sea, pollution and all, and then barfed it all over the captain. Pieces of fabric scattered from his clothes like so much blue dandruff, floating into the sky to greet the birds. Ike found himself wishing for an Icarus moment, and for the great cerulean expanse above him to be dotted with beautiful spots of flame and falling ash. When his wish was not granted, the warrior turned his murderous glower towards Captain Falcon.

"How's my blue crew?" Captain Falcon crowed with his arms spread-eagled as he winged his way towards the three swordsmen. Ike wondered how many more lame bird references could be made before people got tired of it, but stopped when Captain Falcon clapped him on the shoulder. The warrior shrugged the offending hand off with a violent jerk, to which the captain simply stretched his moronic grin even wider.

"You know, Captain Falcon," Marth interjected from his comfortable position on the ground, drawing the attention of the man, "at first I couldn't quite decide whether you were mocking us or attempting to be clever." He paused, his expression thoughtful. "However, now that I've seen your face, I can definitively say that you are trying to be clever and failing quite miserably. You idiot."

However, contrary to the prince's intentions, Captain Falcon clapped his hands together like an excited preschooler and said in a singsong voice, "Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning! Maybe you should hear my Happy Song!"

"I always wake up on the wrong side of the bed," Marth pointed out, drawing a murmur of "Ain't that the truth," from Ike. All of this went ignored by the good captain, whose mouth was agape as he sucked in a huge breath. Link bolted for the helicopter, slamming the door shut behind him and leaving the three swordsmen to glance around wildly for any possible cover. Their efforts were for naught, as Captain Falcon launched into song before they even had a chance to move.

"Be, be, be happy! Be-ing happy makes you freee! Be, be, be happy! But don't be so happy that you peeee!" Captain Falcon warbled, much to the agony of the ears in his vicinity. The blue catastrophe took a bow and waltzed back to the helicopter. "I think they're all happy now, Linky! Open 'er up and let 'em in!" There was a moment of hesitation from within- or perhaps it was a gathering of will- before the door tentatively slid open and the captain pranced on inside. Link poked his head out at the swordsmen, his gaze sympathetic to their pain.

"Sorry 'bout that," Link apologized. "I kinda threw you to the wolves back there."

"Oh, no problem," Meta Knight said despite the grumbles of mutiny from the humans. "We're used to hawks screeching in our ears." The masked Kirby hopped into the helicopter, waving Falchion as bait for Marth. "C'mon, you two."

"He's performed it 42 times now, so if we're lucky, he'll like the number and keep quiet," Link offered for encouragement, noting the continued reluctance of Marth and Ike to move from their positions. Ike heaved a great sigh in response and shook his head.

"Fine," he grumbled, bending over to grab Marth and toss him inside. The prince, being resigned to his fate, offered no resistance and flopped inside. Ike joined them soon after, and Link slid the door shut behind the warrior before gingerly entering the cockpit.

The interior of the helicopter was sparsely painted and completely devoid of blue, giving Ike cause to praise Ashunera, and several seats lined the walls. Meta Knight had already strapped himself in, and Ike couldn't help but snigger at the way the harnesses enveloped the Kirby. Used to such behavior, the masked Kirby paid him no mind and offered Ike the seat next to him. The warrior was glad to comply. Meta Knight glanced at the still immobile Marth.

"You should probably take a seat, Marth," he said, and received a shrug from the prince.

"I am quite comfortable here, as I cannot see your faces," Marth replied, his head turned towards the door.

"You won't be quite so comfortable when your face is planted into the steel door," Meta Knight pointed out, but the prince refused to move.

"I can demonstrate for you, if you'd like," Ike offered.

"Perhaps you don't recall my complaints about the painful throbbing within my head, result of your intelligent decision to bash it," Marth reminded the warrior, his voice harsh.

"I still maintain that it's your fault," Ike snapped. "You were being unreasonable." A thoughtful sound came from Marth as he turned his head to contemplate Ike.

"I suppose the thought of mutual blame never crossed your mind," mused the prince, and Ike clenched his fists, his brow furrowing in anger. Fortunately for the warrior, Meta Knight intervened on his behalf.

"Ike isn't at fault in the slightest, Marth. It's all you." Marth's expression was impassive, his eyes unreadable.

"How so?" asked the prince, and Meta Knight snorted at him.

"Really? You're asking that question?" Meta Knight asked, his tone faintly mocking. "Your behavior has been venomous for so long that it has become routine for us to treat you in kind, especially since we gave you no reason in the first place. This imagined reason of, 'They're being unreasonable to me, so I'll do the same' is misguided, as you are only mimicking our initial actions." As Marth opened his mouth to retort, Meta Knight added, "And don't say that we should have tried being nice to you. We did, and you were no different. So stop giving us this bull shit about how it's our fault, okay?" Marth blinked at the masked Kirby and rose to his feet, his movements languid. Before he could reach a seat, the helicopter lurched into the air, listing to the side as it did so and sending Marth careening into the opposite wall.

"Karma's a bitch," Ike noted as the prince cradled his wounded skull. When a glare was not forthcoming, Ike pondered if Meta Knight's words had actually gotten to the prince. It was also entirely possible that it was simply the result of the culmination of multiple head bashings. Yeah, that was probably it.

Ike amused himself by watching Marth attempt to drag himself into the chair, but when the prince finally succeeded and strapped himself in, he lost interest. The helicopter discontinued its energetic tango with turbulence and settled into a smooth incline, which signaled that Link was most likely in control. The Hylian had probably learned how to fly it quite well from watching all the things one doesn't do when maneuvering a helicopter. The thought gave Ike confidence in the idea of an uneventful trip, and so he settled back to sleep the ride away.

His confidence was proven delusional when the sound of shattering glass jolted him out of his peaceful stupor, and he shared a glance with Meta Knight. The masked Kirby shrugged, seeming puzzled, and Ike unbuckled. The warrior rose to his feet and strode to the side door, sliding it open despite Meta Knight's protests. At first, Ike discerned nothing amiss, seeing only the rapid change of desert into jungle, but a rapidly diminishing speck caught his eye. Ike leaned over, peering at it, and felt a pang of shock as he recognized the panicked scream as Captain Falcon's. The pang was accented by a sudden impact in his back, and with a panicked shout, Ike toppled over the edge.

* * *

Meta Knight stared, frozen with horror, as Link was flung bodily from the cockpit. The Hylian slammed into Ike's back, and the warrior fell forward with a frightened cry. Meta Knight scrambled to unbuckle himself and rescue his friend, but Marth lunged forward and barely snagged Ike's cape in his fingers. As the prince fell to the floor with a grunt of pain, a dark creature shot forth from the cockpit. Its form was vaguely humanoid in shape, with hands tipped in gnarled claws and black skin made of darkness that bubbled and writhed like fresh tar. It skidded to a halt before Link, extending its palm towards his limp body, and the boiling darkness streamed from its skin onto the helpless Hylian. Link was enveloped in seconds, the darkness smoking as it made contact with his skin, and Meta Knight rushed the dark creature, a scream of fury exploding from him.

His jagged blade tore across the thing's chest, and it staggered back with a wordless snarl. Meta Knight dodged under its foot and slashed behind its knee, intending to force it to its knees. The creature simply whirled on him with unprecedented speed, its heel smacking directly into Meta Knight's mask. The force of the blow lifted the masked Kirby from the ground, but he turned it to his advantage with ease- it wasn't as if the creature knew of his wings. With a snap, his purple cape morphed into bat like wings, and with a mighty beat Meta Knight reversed directions and zoomed into the creature's face. A flash of gold struck its featureless visage, sending it reeling backwards into the wall.

Meta Knight growled as he surged forward, tensing for another lightning strike to its neck, but an arc of silver in the corner of his eye caused him to whirl around. A clang reverberated in the air as the masked Kirby barely blocked Link's blow, his yellow eyes wide with fear at the sight before him. Link had been consumed by the viscous liquid, his features as dark and void as the creature's, and now he was turning his blade against Meta Knight.

The masked Kirby flicked his blade out of the lock, sidestepping as Link slashed down at him, and swiped his blade at the Hylian's ankle, only to find a second black foot in his face. As the creature's blow staggered him, Link swiveled and swung at Meta Knight's face. The blade barely skidded off of his mask, sparks trailing its length, but the strike stunned the masked Kirby completely. Fear pounded in his body as both the creature and Link brought their arms back for the final blow; he knew that he would not recover in time to escape.

A sudden scream erupted from the creature as a silver blade ripped through its chest, darkness frothing around the wound, and Marth shoved it off of his sword with a contemptuous kick. Link pivoted to attack the prince, but a mighty golden blade thudded into his chest and sent him flying. A horrendous scream came from the Hylian as he fell, and Meta Knight made to catch him- they couldn't let him die! His fears and effort was for naught, however, as the darkness from the fallen creature rushed to its new comrade and sprouted wings- much like Meta Knight's own.

A deep snarl sounded behind Meta Knight as the twisted Link glided away, and the masked Kirby glanced over his shoulder at Ike.

"Damn that thing," the warrior rumbled, clenching his fist. His sword laid limp at his side, but his rigid arm set its blade a quiver. Meta Knight placed a comforting hand on his friend's, and Ike bowed his head, inhaling deeply. Marth watched the black dot fade into the horizon, his eyes twin chips of ice. Having calmed himself, Ike raised his gaze and gave voice to Meta Knight's own thoughts. "What the hell was that thing?"

"This world's new scourge," Marth breathed, his eyes narrowing. Meta Knight faced the prince, wondering what he could possibly mean- but the sudden shuddering of the helicopter reminded him of the vehicle's sudden lack of a pilot. He bolted into the cockpit and took hold of the wheel, only to notice the vibrant, blinking red light on the dashboard.

Fuel empty.

"Damn Captain Falcon to HELL!" Meta Knight screamed, and the helicopter faltered into a dive.

* * *

End Notes: That's the first update. I actually enjoyed writing it, and hope it met- nay, exceeded- expectations and retained some humor. Though this is intended to be more serious, especially as it progresses, I can't write without humor. I don't know if I'll be consistent in the length of each chapter, but I'll try.

The original will remain up, but I don't know whether or not I'll finish it. The differences between the two will be fairly considerable, especially for the endings, and I know that I definitely don't want conflicting endings.

So much better than the original… I think. So don't check that one out until I finish this one, and if you ever do, be prepared to laugh at the contrast.

I know I made a reference to Radiant Dawn, but I haven't actually played it, so… yeah. With that in mind, I hope that Ike isn't too OOC in context.

I would also like to ask for some name-based feedback in the reviews. See, in the first version, I called the new enemies demons, but I know that's offensive to some people. In hopes of understanding that and still coming up with a suitable name, I would wish to ask for any thoughts on the matter.

Oh, and expect to wait a while for the next update. Just warning you.


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